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Cogs

by Marco M. Pardi

and Br. Mark Dohle

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” Anon.

All comments are welcome and will receive a reply. All previous posts are open for comment.

At some point in my life I was exposed to pinball machines, those garish, noisy devices with a spring loaded trigger which send a steel ball caroming around a tilted board with various protruding cogs until it finally drops with a thunk into a hole at the bottom. I noticed that every such game board was almost equally topped with lighted illustrations of buxom beauties in supposedly provocative poses and formed a lasting opinion of who were the intended paying customers. I did not play. But, I did watch others, some quite ardent in their drive for high scores.

But wait! Watching people play, I noticed that what I had thought were obstacles (the protruding cogs) were actually little devices that awarded points when they were touched by the ball. If the ball simply dropped down the canyon of clear board without touching them before dropping into the hole there would be no points awarded. So a simple shift in my perspective put the game in a new light. But some of these encounters were deceptive; they hastened the ball toward the hole at the bottom of the board.

Nevertheless, I always take the opportunity to see things as metaphors for our lives. In this case, a barely disguised Freudian plunger hurls us into a conglomeration we charitably call a society. We are born. We figuratively bang into and bump people heedlessly through the brief spasm we call Life. While keeping score of what we’ve gained, we often ignore the lessons gained by what we perceive as loss.

But what of those whom we encounter, and those whom we miss entirely? Do we give a thought to what they’ve gained, or lost? Do we think of how their lives were made different by the encounter, or would have been different had we not done so? I

do find that giving much thought to these directions makes me uncomfortable in some ways; I feel vain, too self important. When someone refers to my college faculty career and calls me a teacher I inwardly recoil. To me, teacher sounds too elitist; I know something and you don’t so I will teach you. I prefer to feel I have put new information before someone and facilitated the process by which they discover its meaning. For me, the greatest reward in that career was not the money (that’s surprisingly abysmal), it was seeing the excitement of discovery in students’ faces. Whether they reached the same judgment as me was unimportant; they reached a judgment. Especially when assigning written papers I tried to make clear to students that I’m not here to teach you what to think, I’m here to help you develop how to think. What you think is your business; how you think is my business.

Of course, doing that successfully requires talking with people, not talking to people. One person I bumped into over twenty five years ago and have gained many points from through our numerous interactions since is the Cistercian monk Mark Dohle. As must be plain, his foundational premise is different from mine but his developments and applications of thought have values which must surely add to the wealth of our persnal developments, no matter the trajectory of our lives.

Their Roots in Trauma

by Br. Mark Dohle

Our interior lives are deeper than most understand. For there lurk angels, demons,and gods, not to mention passions, deep emotions, and overwhelming feelings of many different sorts. Their roots are in trauma. Perhaps that is why this world can seem more like a mental hospital than an actual world with rational, intelligent beings.

These inner realities can keep us locked away from one another. We use politics and religion more than anything else to do that. I am certainly not immune to the siren songs of ‘personal infallibility’.

Jesus tells us to love one another because in my mind it is the only way to bridge our own inner hell to others, and become free to see, embrace, and understand those around us. For we are truly mysteries to one another, as well as to ourselves. Yes, when we learn to seek others, we understand that they also mirror back to us important insights about ourselves. They do not become our enemies but friends.

Prayer connects us to the “Heart Of God”, and opens us up to feel for others, to have empathy, and to seek the beauty in those around us. As difficult as that can be, in grace healing comes, and prayer opens up our hearts to grace.

The human soul must be fed, and that happens through prayer, the reading of books, and Scriptures that shower light on our need for help from above, in that is our salvation.

To not pray can close us off from others leaving us only with ourselves, and our own ideas often against most others. We align with like-minded people and block out all else. We cannot see our own humanity in those who are ‘other’.

Perhaps that is what causes all of the insanity that fills human history: we do not pray from the heart.-Br.MD

Where Does Faith in God Lead?

By Br. Mark Dohle

‘Religion is always love, nothing but love.’ Haven’t I explained to you that you will be judged according to the measure of your love—on that alone?

Bossis, Gabrielle. He and I (Kindle Locations 4201-4203). Pauline Books and Media. Kindle Edition.

+++++++++

Truth, and Love, can’t be separated. However truth said without love is not about love at all, but more about control, or, the ‘Will to Power’.

Both Truth, and Love have to be embraced, it cannot be forced. The people who have influenced me the most are those who do not seek to manipulate or control me.

To force one’s love on someone, or to try to force another to see things the way I do, is in fact an act of evil. It does not mean that we do not speak the truth, but when we do, to keep the ‘Golden Rule’ in mind. How do I want to be treated? Think about it, pray about it, and then seek to be open to others, about your thoughts and beliefs.

To stereotype another can be another evil since we strip away the humanity of someone and force them into a specific mold, which probably does not exist anyway. In religion/politics, the most decisive and inflammatory subjects, we tend to stereotype more than any other those who disagree with us. We are seeing the

destructive fruit at this point in time in our history more than ever before. This is because of the many forms of communication, several offering anonymity, that are now easily available.

On line there are more communities that exist that only allow information that they already agree with. Yet, the more we talk at each other, the less that is said or listened to.

Is it any wonder that so many are lonely, and isolated in a world filled with instant access to news, and discussion? The grace of love allows us to build bridges so that we can speak to others of a different mindset without being offensive to each other.

Christian friend, and all friends, let us pray for all, and seek to see all that we come in contact with as a beloved child of God. We are not called to judge, but to speak truth, and to listen to others as we would like to be listened to. So many feel discounted, this leads to rage.-Br.MD

As Mark and I have made clear in our frank discussions, we do not share the same foundation. But we do share our value of how we communicate with others.

And speaking of that, I will take this opportunity to inform you of a stunning encounter I had recently. I walk my dog, or more likely get dragged, about the neighborhood early every morning. Often we encounter and exchange greetings with an elderly African-American man wearing a ball cap with various writing and military insignia on it. And this time I was close enough to ask him what was on his cap. He came closer and showed me. To say I was stunned almost silent would likely be the

understatement of 2023. He seemed pleased at my reaction, and I sincerely hope to sit down with him soon and interview him for a post I will provide for you.

As always, I am deeply honored by and grateful for the comments people are kind in offering on this site. Since this site is read in many countries around the world I will say I have no doubts that the world, as we know the better parts of it today, is what it is due to the bravery and fortitude of the man I had often passed but only recently met on my neighborhood street in the past few days. In that light I would hope people respond.

An ancient Indian proverb advises us: Life is a bridge. Cross over it but build no house upon it.

Dealing With “Situations”

by Br. Mark Dohle

Br. Mark is a lifelong Cistercian (Trappist) monk at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers, Georgia. He has recently been diagnosed with Covid 19. Although in isolation, he is greatly concerned about his fellow monks, many of whom are elderly. I heard from him as recently as this morning and he is having a tough time with Covid. MMP

All comments are welcome and will receive a reply. All previous posts are open for comment.

Dealing with ‘situations’

“I plead with you–never, ever give up on hope, never doubt, never tire, and never become discouraged. Be not afraid.”

Pope John Paul II

I guess you can say, that we all have times in our lives when the above quote may not seem helpful. Sickness, loss of a loved one, or a job, health issues, and of course, becoming old, bring with it its own list of problems, issues, and situations that have to be faced.

Bromides, and just about any saying no matter how wise, can actually cause some harm to people. However, the content can be true, and even helpful. The gist of the matter is that each of us has to decide, choose, listen, and, then put into practice what is said. Not always an easy thing to work through.

In my own life, there are times when I have chosen to ‘sink’ so to speak. To make matters worse by entering into a state of ennui, or into a desperate desire to escape an unescapable situation. Unless someone dies young and quickly, there will be more than one situation in our lives when we will be brought to a place of choice, but may not choose at all. Chaos can be given into. In some ways, it is easier than choosing ‘life’ over the netherworld.

Suffering of all kinds can throw us back upon ourselves, blocking everything else out. When in deep suffering we often can’t center ourselves. The tendency is to make the world responsible, causing rage, or blame God, making the situation worse. It is an outward movement away from prayer, there is nothing to stand upon that is lasting. It can cause deep restlessness even when fatigue is present. We want to be anywhere but here at this time.

For most of us, if the situation is not terminal, we do get through it, adapt, and life goes on. If during such situations we become more pointed in what we want to do, something else can happen.

 Many find God when in the depth of suffering. It is then that prayer and the relationship with God become real and not just something we may do from time to time. The term “Christ with Us” for Christians, becomes something real and we learn to unite our sufferings with His for the salvation of others. For in prayer, there is a deep connection with our fellow man.

Sickness of all kinds is common. Today Covid seems to be everywhere, so it is not hard to meet people who have gone through it more than once. For the most part, the majority seem to get through it without much fuss. For others, it can be very painful, and then there are those who die. No one knows why some get ill, and die, and others, even with Covid, prosper. There always seem to be more questions than actual answers to our important concerns.

By the grace of God, I was able to more or less stay focused so as not to get dragged down. I have come to understand my age, my fragility, on a new level, and it makes me more aware of how important life is, and how each moment is a time of loving choice, to choose to say yes even in the midst of feeling alone, and isolated from God. I do not believe such feelings, or emotions, they pass, as do all things. God’s love never passes, for God is with us.-Br.MD

Escape

by Marco M. Pardi

“We have art in order not to die of reality.” Friedrich Nietzsche

“Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.” Ernest Hemingway

“Religion is believing in other people’s experience… Spirituality is experiencing your own.” Anon.

All comments are welcome and will receive the fish eye, I mean, a reply. All previous posts are open for comment; no one will track you, hunt you down, fiddle with your meds, or otherwise bother you. And, you are welcome to forward disagreeable materials you find to anyone you choose.

No, this is not a narrative of a daring-do escape; it is an exploration of how we – and that includes you – cope. This is particularly relevant for residents of the Untied States, but it can reasonably be argued that when the Untied States catches a cold the rest of the world catches………something. But, hey, I said reasonably argued. When’s the last time you heard that phrase?

As a young boy I looked at quiet people and wondered what was going on in their minds. I didn’t want to “read” their minds, that was too factual. And probably not interesting. No, I wondered if they were in the moment, or somewhere else. Were they hearing music, replaying old arguments, regretting something past, wishing they were somewhere else or in some other time? I had no understanding of psychology, rather I was developing a sense of philosophy, particularly of mysticism. How people answer the question, WTF am I doing here, and if they ask it at all.

In primary school the nuns, especially Nun the Wiser, chastised us for “daydreaming” in class. I found this troubling inasmuch as these women had dedicated their lives to someone they had never met, or had even seen in a photograph. And, they spoke constantly of mortal life as short, Earth as only a place of hard learning and trial, and a non-corporeal life to come in a “far better place.” That better place stuff must have taken hold as so many people carelessly say that to surviving families at funerals; “He’s in a far better place now.” A few years ago I knew a suddenly widowed woman who required in-patient care after someone said that to her at her husband’s funeral; as if being away from his wife and his wonderful, loving, young daughters put him in a “better place”. That has got to be one of the most horrible things one can say at a funeral.

Still, many of us – probably most – have our Anywhere but here moments. And that poses the question: Where do people go when they are mentally not here? And, when they go, do they not take themselves with them? Through years of knowing people with various problems, including substance abuse, I learned that many of these people thought moving somewhere else would solve the problem. But then someone spoke up and asserted that you take yourself with you, and until you deal with yourself you will not escape the problem. Seems obvious.

It also seems we are surrounded by innumerable suggestions, advertisements, and, frankly, come-ons for us to “pay your money and take your choice”. Sometimes when I think of the myriad escapes on offer day and night I think back to the graduate course in Criminology I took. During the course I took the opportunity to interview a variety of prisoners, from those sentenced to a few days in jail to those who spent their lives in prison. The “lifers” told me the most dreaded punishment was solitary confinement. No input of any kind, not even sounds from the rest of the prison. Cold sandwiches pushed through a slot in the solid door without so much as a glimpse of a hand. All alone. Or were they. No, in fact they were locked in with themselves.

The lifers laughed as they told me of the young punks who wanted to experience solitary, see how it was, and maybe set some new record for endurance. Invariably they broke down crying and screaming to be let back into the general population, all much sooner than they thought. I guess being with yourself is, for some people, much scarier than I thought. At least for some people.

Writing this reminded me of a funny occurrence at Harvard. The main library had an air circulation system which randomly clattered and clunked, not loudly, just enough to be heard. When the new central air system came on line it was totally silent. Not a sound. Ever. Within days students complained that they could not concentrate on their studies. It seemed their minds were listening and waiting for those familiar sounds.

It was the realization of the terror of being with one’s self which turned me against capital punishment – in most cases. I say most cases because I want to reserve the right – within the law – to personally mete out such punishment where and how I see fit. But I learned many decades ago that when you kill someone you can’t hurt them anymore. As Socrates said in answer to why he chose suicide over exile, (I paraphrase) If there is nothing after death then there won’t be a me to experience it. But if there is a life after death I will go on living as before. So, under option One you can empty your magazine in someone’s face and it makes no difference, except to how they look. Under option Two, maybe they went to a “better place”. Solitary confinement seems much more promising if your intent is to punish.

Some years ago I wrote a piece on Korsakov’s Psychosis, commonly known as Korsakov’s Syndrome or “wet brain”. You can find it in the archives if interested. When I hear apprentice intellectuals intone that we should “live in the now” I think back to those in-patients I had seen with Korsakov’s and how they lived in the now. The eternal now. Through alcoholism or TBI – Traumatic Brain Injury they were completely unable to form and experience memories, short or long term. Each moment was a moment of awakening from a dreamless sleep. Oh, they were not plagued by troublesome memories, but nor did they have any idea of who they were. Information given to them now was gone a moment later. Unlike prisoners in sound proofed solitary, they could not guess the passage of time by the appearance of food trays in their door slots. Thinking of this made me wary of the joyous pronouncements of “eternity”. Since by definition eternity is timeless – in every dimension and direction – is this “better place” a state of Korsakov’s Psychosis? How could someone have a sense of eternity if there is no way to measure time? No way to say, Geez, this forever thing is great! And, come on, affective states become normal. Therefore “great” loses it potency. It’s SSDD, same shit different day, without the ability to measure day.

Many traditions around the world, including early Christianity, believe in reincarnation. I’m okay with it for other people, but not for me. No way I’m ever doing this gig again. But wait, might this be an escape from the mindless tedium of eternity?

Okay, if you have read this far I’m guessing you have some sense of time having passed. Speaking of which, how did we come up with this concept of time wasted? Are we on the clock? Big Ben in the Sky? Thanks for spending part of your life with me. I’ll be going now.

by Br. Mark Dohle

Conversation with a Retreatant

by Br. Mark Dohle

“God doesn’t always bring you the entire truth.

He sometimes gives it to you in pieces, in order to learn.

Regardless, it is the piece that you got today

that will renew your faith for tomorrow.” ― Shannon L. Alde

Being a Retreat-Master (or Guest-Master) affords me the opportunity to meet many interesting people. We do get a wide variety of individuals who come here for retreats. Many (the majority) are Christians from many different communities. We also get those who follow other paths. Some are structured, others more free-flowing. All are welcome.

There was a man here this weekend, with whom I have spoken before in the past. We had the opportunity to talk about how his life was going. When he came here I think about four years ago, we discussed the crossroad that he was at. He was having what I would call a crisis of faith. Well after much thought he let go of his religion, and now calls himself an atheist. He joined a Unitarian-Universalists congregation. In this church, there are all kinds of people gathered under one roof. There are Christians, deists, atheists, Wiccans, and others who can’t find a church that will accept them. I do not know much about this group, but I did learn from listening to him that it can be a place of healing for many.

I do believe that when I think of other ‘groupings’ I can be very guilty of stereotyping, and in ways that are very unfair. As I listen to my newfound friend sharing about his community I found myself intrigued.

I can’t say that I am a fan of the Woke movement. From those who speak in public about Woke philosophy, it can come across as being angry, without mercy, or a sense of justice. It is about revenge. However, I knew on some level that those who speak out in public, more often than not, are extremists. So I believe that there was a level of not trusting those who speak for the movement. Most people belong to the silent majority who like me are getting more and more fed-up with the vitriol coming from both sides.

Let’s call the retreatant ‘Frank’. Frank talked about seeking to make those on the fringe of society welcome, to give them a place where they do not have to defend themselves because they are different from the average citizen. As he spoke I begin to understand that this man was not into making a political statement, or yelling at others, but simply treat others as they would like to be treated. He had a deep desire to help others and wanted them to find a loving community to interact with.

His past served him a very toxic understanding of God. So when he told me that he simply dumped that image, and became an atheist, I could understand why he had to do that. Yet I could see God at work in his life, and by the fact that he was not consumed with anger, but only wanted to help others, I could sense grace at work.

God is free to do whatever he wants when he seeks to bring healing and peace to others. Some may need to wander far afield, yet do they? Christians, well many of them, feel the need, or compulsion, to draw all kinds of lines with others, and to pronounce judgments. I find this interesting when Jesus told us not to. It is not from the Spirit of God but from our fallen nature. The desire to dominate and control, I believe is one aspect of this.

I find it interesting that Christians will seldom quote this verse:

“Do not judge, so that you will not be judged. For with the judgment you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get.” (Matthew 7:1-2)

Jesus said: Love your neighbor as yourself. Well who is your neighbor? In the parable of the Good Samaritan, your neighbor is your enemy.

To love and respect others is not the same as always agreeing with them. It does mean having enough self-awareness to ‘treat others as you would want to be treated”.

I was thankful for our conversation, and hope to see him again. He seeks as we all do and sometimes along diverse paths, but the grace of God knows the heart and is leading those who truly seek to that path that in the end leads to our true home. For Jesus said: “Those who seek will find”.-BrMD

Untrained

by Marco M. Pardi

“Man is the only creature that knows nothing and can learn nothing without being taught. He cannot speak nor walk nor eat; in short, he can do nothing at the prompting of nature – but yell.” Pliny the Elder. 1^st Century CE.

“The worst sin towards our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them: that’s the essence of inhumanity.” George Bernard Shaw

All comments are welcome and will receive a reply. All previous posts are open for comment.

Curious about the picture? I will try to be brief. Maybe. In the Fall of 1962 I had been handling a military working dog for about 17 months based at Wheelus Air Field, east of Tripoli, Libya. The air field was the weapons training, storage and development center for the Air Forces in Europe and Africa. The dogs were called “Sentry Dogs”, a military euphemism to not upset the locals. They were Attack Dogs. They did not sniff out explosives or drugs; their one mission was to detect and destroy all human life except that of their handler. They could not be rehabilitated and adopted at the end of their service; they were “euthanized” – killed. Becoming a handler was strictly voluntary; no one could be assigned to such duty as the 90 to 115 pound dogs were life threatening, as were the scrub desert areas and distant stations we worked, alone, only at night. The K-9 Unit was the “tip of the spear” in base defense.

The night after I first landed on base, as I was being shown to my K-9 living quarters, we passed an open room where I saw two handlers, one with a large turban-like bandage on his head and the other, shirtless, with a large bandage on his abdomen. I had a moment of joy; I was in the right place. But, it turned out “Tom” had just displayed a picture of his wife and “Bill” had said Tom’s dog was better looking. As the two seasoned handlers engaged “Bill” bit off the entire top half of “Tom’s” left ear while “Tom” bit a large chunk out of “Bill’s” abdomen. Oh, well. In the next room there was only one handler, his roommate “Pedro” being in the base hospital. Dressing for his midnight shift “Pedro” had borrowed a pair of his roommate’s fatigue pants. Unfortunately, they had not been washed, and carried the roommate’s scent. As “Pedro” entered his dog’s darkened kennel the dog all but castrated him before other handlers could dive in and subdue the dog, themselves getting bitten in the process. The dog was fine, but “Pedro” was reassigned after “recovery”.

I had been given my choice of five available dogs. The moment we made eye contact I knew my dog, as I’m sure he knew his human. Yet, the kennel master told me I would not be able to “get in on him” in less than 30 days. I sat outside his kennel and talked with him, and in three days I was able to enter his kennel, lock the door behind me, and leave with only a minor bite. He thought I had tripped him when I hadn’t. After bandages and shots at the hospital I came right back into his kennel. We talked.

Then, ready to begin our relationship, we embarked on our rotations of six nights work and three nights off, hunting “penetrators” from as far away as Egypt on the east and Algeria on the west, with a substantial number from various Libyan tribes seeking to seize control of the country. The King had fled to France and Qaddafi had yet to seize power. The takfiris (Islamic extremists) were there, but not yet out in the open.

The three off days included training sessions, mostly repetitive and difficult in the 120+ degree summers. From the first day I took issue with the harsh and cruel methods employed in training. For example, I refused to use a “spike choke chain”. I refused to slam my dog against a hurdle he wouldn’t jump. I said that using a padded sleeve to encourage a dog to bite was a sure way of getting a dog killed as it trained the dog to go after the sleeve and not the unprotected parts of the man. In fact we did abandon the use of the sleeve, putting a muzzle on the dogs and having them attack unpadded volunteer handlers (illegal by USAF standards, but lives depended on it). I did that often.

In my constant refusals of harsh methods I pointed out the unnecessary dangers to the handlers. During one session a handler using a spike choke chain tried to force his dog to sit on the hot sand. From over 10 feet away I heard the bones crunch as the dog leaped up and crushed the man’s right wrist. Permanently disabled, the Unit unnecessarily lost another handler. But my gadfly persona infuriated the training master to the point where the Unit Chief intervened and suggested we stage a “Dog Show” for the entire base, pitting my training methods against the training master’s. My dog and I were alone against the 19 other teams which qualified for the contest. So, the trophy you see in the picture above. Our 1^st Place finish was many points ahead of Second Place.

You may have noticed above that I said I talked “with” my dog, not to my dog. That’s my point (Oh, he finally got to it). There is a distinct difference. But I had not come suddenly to that realization by holding eye contact for the first time with the dog I had selected. Since just before age 5 I had been exposed to dogs and horses and in each case the dog or horse was older than me (Let’s not go down the “dog years” rabbit hole). I did not know the details, but I sensed that each dog and each horse had learned from a broad scope of experiences I could only begin to understand. I sensed they had a wisdom they might share with me. I also sensed that they were capable of doing so only if I learned how to receive it. Thus, my interest in ethology.

As years passed and I experienced more interactions, read science literature especially in ethology, and thought deeply about my learning I became that 18 year old sitting outside a chain link gate talking with a dog who could rip me to shreds in seconds. I had learned: Dogs are predators. They rely on particular senses in order to detect prey, feed, and survive. Dogs hear differently from humans, doing better particularly in the high frequency range. With very low volume sounds they tie with humans in the common ranges and exceed humans in the upper ranges. Dogs process sound differently. They can discriminate pitch in a far wider range than can humans. They can categorize sounds easily, and they can discriminate differences in human languages. For example, my mother had a very shrill and haranguing voice. While vocally praising the handsomeness of one of my Siberian Huskies she reached for him. He bit her. For the Husky, all the information was in the shrill tone. And, while sitting outside my attack dog’s kennel reading a book aloud to him to accustom him to my voice I noticed he was moving around. Turned out that whenever I said, Sit, Down, Watch, or similar words he reacted as if to commands he had learned from previous handlers. But I was not using a “command voice”. My tone was simply reading aloud.

So how do dogs and horses compare to humans? Dogs have roughly 40 times the number of olfactory sensors than humans have. These sensors are of a greater variety, enabling the dog to detect a far greater range of scents than humans can. They can detect week old finger prints and scents 40 feet underground.

A dog is very near sighted, and sees colors as does a person with red – green color blindness. But their nose and ears more than compensate for vision.

Horses are prey animals. They rely on particular senses to detect predators and to inform them of the location of food and water, mates, and friends. Their sense of smell is thousands of times more powerful and sensitive than that of humans. Their forward vision is less efficient than peripheral or rearward vision; their vision is mainly to escape predators. Whether riding or simply standing with a horse, the key to their communication is the position and movement of their ears. And, as you ride they are watching you; their rearward vision is superb. So, watch their ears to determine what they are telling you.

Of course, we can’t stop without citing comparative facial expressions. People are often quick to ascribe meaning to dog expressions, and less so to horses. But, horses display 17 clearly distinct facial expressions (Yes, that horse was sneering at you. Get some riding lessons). And dogs display 16 clearly distinct facial expressions. (Caution must prevail when assuming a Husky is smiling. This mistake is also made regarding other mammals such as porpoises). And, according to research at Ohio State University, humans display 21 clearly distinct facial expressions. We aren’t really that much ahead.

Handling an Attack Dog at night provides lessons far beyond merely staying alive. I quickly learned that watching my dog’s movements was far more important than staring into the darkness. Once I understood that I realized that my dog was always communicating with me, not just to me. By watching him I could quickly determine if one or several persons were out there, in which direction they were moving (if they were) and at what pace. His silent movements, or stillness, communicated his assessment of the nature of the threat, its imminence and its severity. His life and my life were intertwined. From then on, in every other way, whether by the silent hand signals I used or by the tone of voice I employed I sought to bring him into the communication, not just subject him to it. That was the crucial difference between my way of handling the dog and the “training” employed by all the other handlers, those following instructions from the “training master”. I interacted with a person, albeit somewhat different from myself; the others handled furry mechanical objects not greatly different from the various firearms we carried. (We did like to say, A dog is the only gun that can shoot around corners.)

I’m sure every reader has at one time or another heard someone, probably a parent, say, “Don’t use that tone of voice with me.” Yes, we are each sensitive to the various tones of human speech. But it turns out that dogs, horses, and probably a lot of other non-humans are far more sensitive to tone than we are. We increasingly live in a world in which we can issue voice commands to objects and obtain an immediate result; Alexa, play Santana’s Abraxas. On Star, call Home. And when we use that tone of voice as, Satan, get your chew toy, we are speaking as if to an object, not to a remarkably sentient companion.

So that’s my message: Untrain yourself from the confines of seeing everything non-human as merely objects to be manipulated, often through force. That horse may one day kick you half way across the pasture; that dog may some day take a chunk out of you. If you treat them as objects they will tire of your abuse, and until you untrain yourself you may never know why.

But let’s hope you never have a need to earn the patch below.

What Are We Preparing For?

by Br. Mark Dohle

Monastery of the Holy Spirit

Most readers know I am not a deist. However, I have known Br. Mark, a Cistercian (Trappist) monk, for over 25 years. Of the many monks and nuns I have known in my lifetime Br. Mark stands out as one of the few who fully engage in candid and respectful dialogue with people of all perspectives. I hope readers will avail themselves of this opportunity to do so. All comments are welcome and will receive a reply. (Marco M. Pardi)

What are we preparing for?

Life is hard, though also filled with beauty, and wonder, and yes there is always hope. My eyes that look out upon the world today do not see the same things as I once did when I was a callow youth. I have lost a certain innocence as I aged, and I think that is a good addition, as long as it does not lead to bitterness or cynicism.

I actually like aging, even though there is a lot that goes with that. Deepening faith and a growing trust in God help me deal with the more uncomfortable realities of aging.

My body is not the same as it was when I was a young man and strong, in good shape, with little or no pain in my body. Now of course that has all changed. My ears don’t work like they used to, but I have hearing aids. My eyes need more attention as the years go by, and I can’t take for granted that every day I will be able to read easily. Fatigue is with me much of the time, some of it deep, making it hard for me to sit for more than ten minutes without falling asleep. All I need do is have a book in my hands, and my head will droop, and I doze off. Pain is a constant companion, though not usually over a 7, which I can handle without too much trouble. So in order to deal with that I guess I have developed what St. Paul calls “patient endurance”. I think this is what allows me to enjoy life perhaps even more than when I was young.

As we age, we come to realize that we are actually dying, albeit slowly. Sometimes when I am sitting before the Blessed Sacrament, the shortness of my future in this world comes across strongly, but not depressingly, but just a matter of fact. There is both relief and some fear in that thought.

Family members die, which is a great sorrow for me. Friends as well. Yet I find more peace in my later years than when I was younger.

About two weeks ago, as I was praying before the Blessed Sacrament, I got a strong inspiration that simply came across with this simple statement: “Just look to me”. I was surprised at the strength of the inner movement of my soul. It is true…..all we need to do is look to the Lord. The problem with simplicity is that it can actually be very difficult. The complex can be fun and challenging, but simple (?), well again, patient endurance is needed.

I have found that the more earthy concerns, that come from my thought process, often rooted in my far past, are simply one big circle that I run around in, with no way out. It traps me in my head and becomes more and more compulsive if I do not make an effort to stop the movie from running.

Fear comes for me, as anger, and anxiety when I start to try to do it all by myself. Grace draws me out of my intense ‘subjectivity’. Which is in reality a hellish experience.

It is grace that allows us to love others, forgive, and listen. Both to God, as well as to those around us. Love is the gateway out of our hellish inner lives when we get stuck with ourselves and our personal infallibility.

Each of us is the beloved of God. Sin flows from our fear of truth, pain, and just life. When we self-medicate we only get worse. To embrace life means to accept in faith that all that is, and happens, is somehow within God’s permissive will. I can’t figure myself out, so I have no doubt that the deep mysteries of life are also beyond my reach. However, the mystery is not unknowable, but eternally knowable. So one of the gifts of aging is that we do slowly learn to understand on a deeper level, and that is one of the many gifts of aging.

Pray, trust, love, and get through one day at a time.-Br.MD

Compassion

by Br. Mark Dohle

Monastery of the Holy Spirit

I have known Br. Mark, a Cistercian (Trappist) monk, for over 25 years. Of the many monks and nuns I have known in my lifetime Br. Mark stands out as one of the few who fully engage in candid and respectful dialogue with people of all perspectives. I hope readers will avail themselves of this opportunity to do so. All comments are welcome and will receive a reply. (Marco M. Pardi)

Compassion

This is a conference that I am giving to give this morning to a large group of teachers. I had some very good interactions with some of the teachers I had when growing up in Panama. A few of them touched me deeply, and I feel that I would have turned out differently if not for them.

These are notes but will use them to help me keep on track. -Br.MD

—–Definition of compassion: Sympathetic consciousness of other’s distress together with a desire to alleviate it.—–

I would like to start with the experience of meeting a very compassionate teacher a few years ago. Let’s call him Stan, in order to protect his privacy.

Stan worked at a school in Chicago that dealt with teenagers who came from homes that were in turmoil, to put it mildly. He would share with me his day-to-day interaction with these students. What struck me in a very powerful way, was the deep compassion that he had for these young people.

From one day to the next there was always some sort of ‘minor’ emergency going on and some serious issues that were in some cases, life-threatening, for some of the students.

He talked about failures, suicides, and trying to get through to the parents, who themselves came from very troubling family histories.

I am not sure all the teachers who worked in this school got as involved as Stan did. He has done this for years, has not burned out, and is a man of great faith.

What I experienced in Stan was the reality of the cost that compassion calls for.

Not everyone is called to the kind of service that Stan is, yet for most of us, we to, are called in many situations to be compassionate, instead of judgmental.

Stan was not a pushover. He did challenge his students, pushed them, and because of this, many were able to overcome their environment and move on to better lives. In some instances, it even helped the family towards healing as well.

Stan is not the only teacher I have met with this kind of Christ-like compassion, I have spoken to more than a few, and in all cases, I am amazed at their stamina in dealing with so much pain.

There is a price to be paid for being deeply compassionate. Choosing to become uncaring, and aloof, also has a heavy price to endure as well. In order to protect oneself from the sufferings, and struggles of others, a wall has to be built up, and the bricks for such a wall are the use of labels or stereotypes that lessen the humanity of others or take it away altogether. I do think this is a worse fate than the upward road that compassion takes us all on.

There is always an underbelly to all true gifts. When compassion becomes compulsive it suffers from thinking that they have to save, and make right, the lives that they come in contact with. This can lead to frustration, and burnout.

The healing aspect of compassion comes from the fact that the one being helped experiences a deep acceptance from the other that allows inner freedom to grow.

When I was a student, and I was not a good one, I also experienced compassion from some of my teachers. Some teachers lost patience with me, which was understandable, but it did not change me. Others seemed to see something in me that made me pause in wonder at what on earth they were seeing in me. I sort of agreed with the teachers that showed frustration, that I was not worth much. Though that was my subjective interpretation of their anger toward me. I doubt that was their intent.

Those who saw ‘something’ in me, did change me, they planted a seed that did not bear fruit until I was 19 or 20. It was then that my mind ignited and I thirsted for knowledge. I do believe that this happened in part because of the gentle acceptance of my slowness, yet at the same time, they encouraged me. If I never experienced that compassionate, loving acceptance, I doubt that I would have believed that I was capable of really learning, or becoming anyone worthwhile.

I do believe that all teachers have students they feel a deep connection with and help them in ways that they do not understand.

We learn from those we have compassion for. We deepen our understanding, not only through our own suffering and struggles but by seeing what everyone, I believe, goes through.

What makes it possible for us to be compassionate is the very commonality of the mystery of human suffering.

When I meet young people today, I do not see the stereotypes that are bandied about as true. Being a teenager was for me one of the most difficult times of my life. I can say this, even though my family life, for the most part, while chaotic, was not abusive. Today more than ever, our young people need mature adults to listen, encourage, and yes protect them from modern currents that can be destructive.

I have no doubt that all of you educators here have memories of teachers who saw something in you that you did not see in yourselves. Because of that, the seed of acceptance has born beautiful fruit.-Br.MD